While I Was Shopping: Part 4

Eric leant back in his seat and sighed. The girl in front of him was wearing Debenhams entire supply of makeup and had a skirt so short it could be called a belt. Her red boots clashed with her green top and her heavily made up face was an entirely different colour to the rest of her body. She was screeching a Motown song and had acted, badly, a scene John had chosen from the Python’s funniest collection and had performed to an audience consisting of silence.

The sketch had rocketed the previous night during recording and everyone had been talking about it afterwards in the bar. This girl, her name escaping Eric in his awe of how terrible she was, had mispronounced words, paused in the wrong places and had completely fucked up the comic timing of the entire piece.

John had left the moment she’d started singing and Michael was sat, mouth open, joined by Gilliam, staring in disbelief. Graham had fallen asleep and Jonesy was scribbling frantically onto a notepad before him. When Eric looked closely he saw the words “SHUT UP” scrawled over and over and over.

“I think that’s ok.” He said loudly as the girl made for a crescendo. “We’ll let you know.” He said and the girl grinned happily, obviously believing it had gone well. As soon as she left the room and the door was securely shut behind her Terry rested his head in his hands and played sobbing.

John returned with a scowl and looked pointedly at Michael. “Thanks for suggesting auditions Mike.” He growled.

Michael looked scorned. “If I remember rightly it was you who suggested it, not me. I just agreed.”

John folded his arms and sat heavily in his seat. “I’m not taking the blame for that.” He said motioning to the door that the girl had left by.

Eric waved his arms around. “Listen, lets just forget her. We’ve only got two more applicants to look at. Lets get through those and then make a decision yeah?”

Michael nodded. “Let’s hope they’re worth waiting for, I don’t think I could take a repeat performance of her.”

Gilliam grunted.

“Well one girl is called Stephanie and the other is the girl I told you all about.” Eric crossed his fingers under the table, praying she’d be worth seeing and he wouldn’t feel a prat for asking her.

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Chelsea had left the house early, only to find the queue for auditions already round the block. She grimaced as she stood in the cold air and hugged her coat tightly to her body, conserving as much energy as she could.

She’d chosen her outfit at least three times and each time thrown it back onto her bed, disgusted that she’d bought so little that did anything for her.

Eventually, after an hour of deliberating and prancing in front of the mirror she’d chosen a skirt with flares on the bottom in dark purple, a pink fluffy top and her favourite baby-doll shoes. She’d accessorised with a small over-the-shoulder bag in purple and curled her hair, raising it to just below her shoulders.

It was certainly a comfortable outfit, and she knew that it would leave her without having to put too much makeup on. She’d touched up her lips with a natural pink lipstick and had dusted her eyelids with a shiny pink eye shadow, just enough to enhance her blue eyes and high cheek bones.

Standing in the cold she felt her curls slap her cheeks and she knew instantly that they were bright red and her nose had coloured the same.

Now inside she’d waited patiently for three hours as girl after girl headed inside, each coming out with a proud ‘I got the job’ look about them. Chelsea felt nerves well up in her stomach and her heart hammered against her rib cage, her blood rushing through her head.

As the room dwindled to just the two of them, Chelsea gave the other girl a friendly smile, but she got blanked, and so sat in silence until even that girl had disappeared.

Eric came out of the room and ran his hand through his hair. He looked tired, fed up and bored, and she saw him glance at his watch as he approached.

“Hey, glad you made it.” He said as Chelsea stood up as he came toward her. “The whole group’s not here right now, a couple of the lad’s had to head out. Terry needed a lift and so Palin’s taken him home in his car, so it’s just John, Gilliam, Graham and myself. You’ll be fine though.”

Chelsea motioned around the room. “You’ve had a lot of interest.”

Eric scrunched his nose up and Chelsea suddenly thought about how cute he looked when he did. She batted the thought away. Nerves could do funny things to people.

“There may have been a lot of interest, but the majority of it has been shite.”

Chelsea laughed.

Eric led her to the room and pushed open the door. She took in the darkness first before seeing at the back of the room a long table with 6 chairs, two of which were empty. Terry and Palin, whoever they were, had gone home.

Squinting a little as Eric led her to the spotlight, one light lighting her and making the darkness around her close in even more, she recognised John Cleese’s large frame, his arms folded and his eyes squarely on her, she saw another man clearly asleep and another with a mass of hair covering the majority of his face rocking backwards on his chair.

Eric sat down and picked up his pen. “So Chelsea, what have you prepared for us?”

Chelsea felt adrenaline pump through her body and suddenly calmness flowed in her veins. Her shaking stopped and her heartbeat slowed and she was completely chilled.

“I thought I’d sing a Beatles Song.” She said and caught John bring his hands to his face. “I promise you not to be too bad.” She said and he lifted his head slightly.

The room was silent as she prepared herself. She flowed into ‘All My Loving’ with ease and sang with a soft and husky voice. From the shadows she saw John look up and his hands fall from his face, and the sleeping man had also woken up. She triumphed a little in herself and sang a little louder.

When she’d finished she saw Eric writing feverishly on his pad and a script was thrust into her vision by the longhaired man.

Suddenly John appeared before her in the spotlight, soon joined by Eric. She was shown what she had to say and she skim read through the piece. It was funny, even in writing, and she chuckled to herself as Eric and John took up their positions.

As the sketch progressed she calmed her giggles, although it was hard at points, and got through it, and found that both the sleeping man and the hairy man were laughing loudly. Even John couldn’t keep a straight face, and Eric was having difficulty reading his own lines. Eventually they stopped and Chelsea was offered a seat.

When the laughter died down Eric offered her his hand. “Welcome to Monty Python.”

Chelsea grinned in disbelief. “I’ve got the job?”

John nodded. “You’re the best I’ve seen in the last three months, let alone the last three hours. If we didn’t employ you now I’d kick myself!”

She smiled happily at the group. “So what happens next?”

Eric sat back in his chair. “Well we meet every Thursday evening for a practise run through of the scripts for Monday. We also have writing sessions on Fridays for the next weeks programme. You’re probably needed for both of those. Set rehearsals are on Mondays and we tend to film on Tuesdays.”

John grinned. “Wednesdays we go out on the piss and celebrate our filming.”

Chelsea laughed.

“So I guess we’ll see you tomorrow then?” Eric said. “It’s short notice,” he said and handed her a book-like pile of papers, “but here’s the script for Tuesdays show. I know you have only a few days to rehearse, but consider it a test for you, to make sure you’re good enough.”

Chelsea took it solemnly. “I’ll give it my best shot.” She said and each of them shook her hand.

Eric led her back outside and she smiled up at him before hugging him. “Thanks Eric. I really wanted this job.” She said.

He hugged her back. “Not a problem. We really needed someone for the part, and you did excellently back there. Keep it up and you’ll soon be a fully fledged Python.”

With waved good byes and Eric’s small map on how to get to the rehearsal room the following day, Chelsea headed off towards the tube. She found herself a seat and began to read through the script. Before she knew it she was laughing her head off and looked up with a smile of her face. The tube looked back at her with looks of disgust, and Chelsea went back to her script, stifling giggles.

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Terry rested his hands on his knees. “So what happened?”

The group had assembled in Terry Jones’ house for the Wednesday ritual of pint sharing and laughter, and now that he’d finally sorted out the plumbing accident that had had his wife balling at him down the phone during the auditions, he was willing to sit down and discuss the final two applicants with the guys he’d left behind.

Michael came back into the lounge after briefly chatting with Alison and sat in his usual seat by the window.

Eric was sprawled next to the fire, leaning against the sofa in his customary leisurely way, John was firmly on the three-piece and Gilliam had adopted his on the backless stool he was so fond of. Graham, would’ve arrived late again and has something of a whiff of brandy about him was helping himself to Terry’s drink cabinet, emptying the contents of a gin bottle into a glass.

John was the first to answer. “After the screecher left, and you swanned off, there were only two girls left anyway.”

Eric nodded. “The first was called Stephanie or something. She was crap.”

Mike laughed outright and Terry shot him a cross look. “And the other?”

Gilliam looked at John, who looked at Graham, who looked at Eric. They all smiled widely.

“She was fantastic. Completely perfect for the part.”

Terry sat back in his chair. “When do we meet her?”

Eric smiled. “Tomorrow. She’s coming to the rehearsal. I’m really hoping she’ll have learnt at least some of the lines by then. I know even we don’t learn them that quickly.” He snuck a glance at Graham still hovering near the drinks cabinet. “Some of us don’t learn them at all,” he said, “but I think she’s ok.”

John nodded. “I gave her the script and she read it quickly before we started. She didn’t have to look at it more than four times during the sketch and that’s pretty good.”

Mike took a sip from his pint. “You make her sound like some sort of God John.”

John shrugged. “I was shocked that she could make me laugh. Not many people do.”

Gilliam chuckled. “Boring old fart you.”

John promptly stuck two fingers up at him and caused the group to erupt into laughter, and he even smiled and laughed gently himself.

“Anyway,” he said when the hubbub died away, “I think Eric’s secretly got the hots for her.”

All eyes turned to Eric who looked more than a little shocked at John’s impromptu accusation.

“I don’t.” he said swiftly. “I can’t I’m married.”

John scoffed. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t fancy other people.”

Eric looked pointedly at him. “I suppose you do fancy other people then too do you? As well as being married to your beautiful wife?”

John nodded straight away. “Of course, it’s only natural after all.”

Terry took a swig of his drink. “Don’t you believe in true love John?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe, it’s just I think it’s very unrealistic that’s all.”

Michael shook his head. “Forever the cynic.”

John shrugged. “I don’t live in the clouds like you Palin.”

Mike pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t live in the clouds either, I’m just not a grumpy bastard like most.”

Eric waved his hands around. “Now ladies, calm yourselves.”

John turned to him. “You started it.”

Eric feigned scorn and played punched his leg.

“I think true love exists.” Said Terry suddenly. “I think I’ve found it.”

Everyone turned to stare at this rare moment of honesty and Michael realised with a smile that his best friend truly had found true love in his beautiful wife Alison.

“Good for you.” Said Graham and raised his glass in a single toast.

The others followed suit and calmed themselves down, each silent in their own thoughts.

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Chelsea had sat up nearly all night learning the script. Her eyes felt heavy and her head like lead, but as she approached the rehearsal building she felt her spirits lift and suddenly the night before seemed distant, and all she could hear in her head were words she’d seen written on the pages in her bag.

Pushing the wooden doors of the outer building she walked inside, expectantly looking for someone to show her the way. The foyer was deserted, and not only did it look deserted, it looked like no one had worked there for many many years. Glancing around she realised the reason for this was that the building was merely a storeroom, and she quickly stepped back outside again, wondering why Eric had directed her to a storeroom and not to the rehearsal room.

She was about to turn around to leave, feeling in some way that perhaps she’d been tricked, when a hand touched her elbow and caught her off guard.

“Hey there.” Said a gruff American accent and the hairy man from the dark audition smiled at her. She smiled back, realising that in fact he wasn’t hairy he just had a long fringe that covered his eyes, and his smile was genuinely friendly. He held out a large hand for her to shake and chuckled softly as she took it.

“You’re the new girl aren’t you?” he said again, his deep throaty voice and gruffness confusing her with his trendy appearance.

“Yeah, my name’s Chelsea.” She said.

“Gilliam.” He said and grinned. “My first name’s Terry, but with Terry Jones being part of the group too I get relegated to last name terms only.”

Chelsea smiled. “Is this the right building?” she asked as Gilliam began to walk inside.

He nodded. “Looks like shit don’t it?”

She laughed outright and nodded. “I thought it was going to be..”

“More upmarket?” asked a voice behind her and John appeared from nowhere, a huge formidable figure when stood up fully.

Chelsea grinned up at him. “Something like that.” She said.

“The BBC doesn’t believe in giving good rehearsal rooms to programmes it doesn’t care about.” He said smoothly and smiled genially.

He motioned for her to go forward, following Gilliam and trailing John behind her. They squeezed their way through boxes and sheets of cardboard and plaster board before emerging into a large hall like room with a small stage set out and rows of chairs fanning from the centre in an arc.

Already sat there was Eric and another man Chelsea hadn’t seen before, and Graham was lying on a row of chairs behind them.

Eric waved as she entered and the other man stood up as she approached. He was average height, if maybe a little short, with dark, thick wavy hair, dark eyes and a cute little smile. He looked cheeky and stern at once and Chelsea instantly liked him as he held out his hand.

“Terry Jones.” He said and she grinned.

“My name’s Chelsea.”

“Good to meet you. Ready for this whirlwind experience?” he asked.

She shrugged. “If it’s better than working for Finance, I’m sure it’ll be fantastic.”

John grunted. “I can’t guarantee anything will be better than the Finance Department. Is old Kinky King still working there?”

Chelsea grimaced. “Yeah, he was the one who fired me.”

Eric laughed. “They should fire him for being a pervert.”

Gilliam looked around as if he’d lost something. “Where’s old Palin?” he asked.

Terry pulled a face. “His sister called him up last night, family emergency or something. He said he’d be back by Sunday.”

John folded his arms and stretched out his legs. “He bloody better be. He’s in at least twelve scenes this week and we can’t afford to lose him.”

“That’s a bit heartless John, especially if someone in his family’s sick.” Said Eric.

“Or dead.” Quipped Graham from behind them.

“He’s got a couple of scenes with Chelsea here too.” Said John. “He needs to be here. We all need to get to know her properly before we start acting with her.”

“Yeah, she’s still here John.” Said Eric and Chelsea waved.

“I agree with John though.” Said Terry. “Lets wait and see. We’ll have to organise an extra rehearsal for him and Chelsea on Monday, especially as they have more scenes together than some of us.”
The group agreed and got down to business.

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Chelsea pushed her trolley into the supermarket for yet another weekend shop. It was Saturday night and she’d just come back from Terry Jones’ house after another large gathering involving food, wine, beer and joking about, and also some serious discussion as to what the latest was on the final mystery Python. Alison had towed Chelsea away for some “quality girl time” and they’d had quite a lengthy chat with each other before John had interrupted and pulled Chelsea back into the room.

Feeling happily exhausted and yet bored already with shopping Chelsea threw a few items into her trolley and headed directly towards the alcohol section, knowing it was Grahams birthday soon and that he’d mentioned a particular brand of gin he liked.

Glancing around the bottles she slid up and down the aisles, leaning over her trolley and hanging her legs as she pushed it along, feeling a little light headed with the drinks she had been plied with that evening.
Picking up a bottle in her hands to peruse the label she was aware of someone watching her and looked up to see a familiar face.

“Mike!” she said surprised as he grinned at her from over his own trolley. He slid up to her and, although he smiled at her, she sensed something behind it. His green eyes showed how drained he was and he had bags under them.

“How are you?” she asked as he leant over to look at the bottle in her hand.

“I’m ok,” he said and looked at the floor.

“You don’t look ok.” She said as he fiddled with the handle.

He shrugged. “Had a hard week.” He said and she touched his arm lightly.

“Want to talk over some coffee?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to bore you.”

She crossed her arms defiantly. “Come on. This one’s on me.”

The steam from the coffee warmed her skin as she leant over it and Michael took a sip from a large mug she’d bought.

He seemed to relax, although he’d said very little as they headed towards the restaurant.

Now she looked at him squarely. “What’s the matter?”

His eyes flickered up from his cup and looked into hers and she saw instantly tears in them. Such was the shock of his usually smiling face now contorted in an effort to hold back some kind of emotion she reached out and touched his cheek, wiping away the tears that touched them as she did so.

“Whatever it is Michael, tell me. I don’t like to see you suffering like this.”

He coughed softly and took her hand from his face and rested it on the table top, still holding it in his own.

Chelsea waited patiently for him to regain himself.

Eventually he made to speak, his voice shaky and his hand firmly in hers.

“I got a call in the week to say one of my family was ill. At first I thought it was an Aunt or an Uncle, as most of them are old and usually sick most of the time.” He said with a wry smile. “When I got back home I realised it was my sister.” His face wrinkled back into sadness.

“She’s married and has a baby, but she’s so depressed. I’ve never seen her looking so ill in my life. She’s completely changed, her personality seems to have vanished, she won’t go out, won’t touch the child, won’t look at her husband. She’s recoiled into this shell and won’t come out.”

Chelsea squeezed his hand. “Has she been to see anyone?”

Michael looked up at her. “The doctors give her pills, give her sedatives, and give her advice that she doesn’t follow.”

Chelsea knew the score. She’d seen it with one of her friends’ mothers. She didn’t want to tell Michael just in case he panicked when he found out that she’d committed suicide.

“What about your parents?” Chelsea asked softly.

Mike shook his head. “They don’t know, nor do either myself or Alison want them knowing. We love them very much but they wouldn’t understand this situation.”

Chelsea nodded again. After a brief pause she smiled. “Perhaps you should take her on holiday. Somewhere where she is forced to get involved with the baby, somewhere she’s made to speak to others, where she can relax and be at peace with herself.”

Michael nodded, seriously thinking the idea over in his mind. It was a good suggestion, and one he hadn’t thought of. If a holiday would help then he wasn’t going to wait around. He would organise it for Christmas and see that she had the time of her life.

He looked up at Chelsea and for the first time that evening she saw a genuinely happy smile.

“Thanks Chelsea. I really didn’t mean to put all of this on you. You’ve been a great listener and a true friend for being here for me.”

She smiled, glad to be of help to him. “I couldn’t stand to see you look so pained. I wanted to help.”

He stood up and she followed suit, keeping her eyes firmly on his.

He didn’t let go of her hand and she didn’t take it away. Heading towards the trolleys they continued holding hands and wandered around the store together, peaceful in each others presence.

As they paid for their items and headed out of the store Michael suddenly swung around. “I forgot to ask you, how did your audition go?”

Chelsea smiled. “I got the job. The guys are great and I love everything that’s involved in the whole process. I came from one of their houses tonight after a bit of a drinks do they had going on. They’re such lovely people.”

Michael smiled. “I’m glad it turned out well for you.” He said. “You deserve good things to happen to you.”

She beamed at him as he headed towards his car and motioned for her to follow. “Which is why I’m giving you a lift home again tonight.”

Chelsea stopped her trolley and Michael turned to her. “I thought you said good things.” She said and he poked out his tongue.

“If that’s the way you want to play it I retract my offer.”

She rushed towards him with her trolley. “I’m sorry!” she called. “I didn’t mean it! Please forgive me!”

She saw the grin he tried to hide and pushed herself in front of the lock of his boot.

He sighed and tried to move her but she held on with both hands and he grabbed at them behind her, a laugh escaping his lips before she finally gave in as he tickled her side.

Michael looked down at her and grinned into her face, liking the way her hair, slightly tousled but wavy and long caressed her face, the way her eyes were looking happily into his, the way her lips were twitching in a half smile, half blush.

Before he realised what he was doing he was brushing his own lips with hers, gently touching her hair with his hand and resting the other hand on her side.

Chelsea knew he was going to kiss her even before he did it. As they’d grappled for the lock she’d liked the feel of his body against hers, and the way he’d looked at her as she’d given in had sent shivers down her spine.

When his lips gently touched hers she felt as though a shock had been sent through her and she closed her eyes, kissing him softly back.

He kissed the side of her mouth and then gently made back towards her lips again, this time becoming slightly more tender with his kiss.

She wrapped her arm around his back and touched his hair with her other hand, enjoying the feel of it between her fingers.

They pulled away after what seemed an age and smiled at each other breathlessly, and without another thought began packing the shopping into his boot.

Heading for her house again in silence Chelsea wondered what the next step was. Was she supposed to invite him up for a roll in the hay? Or did she leave it here, and see what would happen next? After all she’d only really just met the man.

They pulled up at her flat and Mike again helped to unload the car, before heading back outside again, and shutting the gate between himself and her.

She realised then that he had no intentions of sleeping with her that night. Instead he leant over the gate and touched her face, before kissing her lips again.

“I’ve left a little something for you in your kitchen,” he said as they pulled away and he stepped towards the car. “Sleep well tonight.” He said and waved as he drove away.

Chelsea watched the car to the end of the street before heading back inside and running into her kitchen to find a small slip of paper placed neatly on her shopping bags.

Unfolding it she read the words, and had to read them over twice more to make sure that she’d seen correctly.

“I love you” stared back at her and she sat down heavily, knowing that she felt the same way.